f r a g m e n t s
by Jyuulii
Summary: Riku finally returns to the islands, and tries to pick up and put together the fragments of his life. (Chapter 6 up!)
1. beginning

**F R A G M E N T S**

_a kingdom hearts fanfic_

He woke coughing and spluttering, pushing himself up on shaking elbows. Sand was in his eyes, water dripping off his hair, trickling into eyes already burning with salt. He rolled over, scrambling out of the water, muscles aching, entire body wound tight and raw. The coat was soaked, clinging uncomfortably to his form.

After a few moments of laboured breathing, trying to regain his bearings, the young man slowly clambered to his feet, feeling woozy and weaker than he had ever been. He reached for his forehead, fumbling for the blindfold and pulling it down low over his throbbing eyes.

Still half-blind, but guided by a pressing sense of urgency, he stumbled through the sand, towards a dirt road in the distance. He moved with a certain lack of grace, still not believing that, of all things, he was _free_. He pressed onwards, not looking back to the ocean from whence he came. Everything was in such sharp, bright clarity. Too sharp, too strong. The light was harsh, the colours too golden, too rich and deep... Years in near-darkness had–

**_flash_****_._**__

Pain and exhaustion hit him as he fell. His arms and legs were begging for rest, cramped with fatigue. The keyblade slowly dropped, and then slipped from numb fingers, clattering on the ground. One hand was splayed on the concrete, sharp grains of rock digging into his palm as he struggled to push himself upright. An endless sea of baleful yellow eyes opened up ahead and around and below, everywhere, watching and waiting.

A droplet of pain appeared in the back of his head, slowly intensifying and becoming the sound of a voice. Insistent, demanding; pushing, prodding. _Fight. Fight for me. Drive them back. Kill them._

He didn't need to look back to see Ansem's ruined figure. The heartless king was something half-man, half-dead, by now, just living on the barest fringes of the other's heart. Bitter reproachand anger brimmed in the young man as he felt the voice, that same deep arrogant voice, forcing him onwards despite the pain. Ansem had constructed a tenuous hold between the two, linking them in some mortifying way. A vice-like grip on his heart, that had him obeying his every whim, protecting him hour after hour.__

Whatever harm befell the king, Riku felt twice over.

Taking up the keyblade again, he leapt back into the fray. The moment after he fell, a hooded figure had materialized by his side, keyblades whirling. One of Ansem's nameless followers. They had come seeking the king, and found more than they bargained for: a world full of hostile, uncontrollable Heartless.

But they were helping. They fought for them, and it was an ease on his burden – the battles were shorter nowadays, and he could actually stop and rest and they planned to free them, to free the two and bring them out of this prison of darkness and lightning–

****

**_flash_****_._**

It was hours after his initial awakening on the beach. He had found his way to the town, and was now collapsed on a bed in the inn, sensing every single lump in the mattress. The curtains were drawn, the lights off, the blindfold resting over his pained eyes. Countless days and months and years in darkness had him forced to see by the light of fitful lightning and spluttering, dying electrical lights. The ruins of a world. The world where the Heartless had taken up residence, for god knows how long.

But he was free. He was out of it, and back in the Destiny Islands. Safe, and with the Heartless worlds away.

... He was back, but not home. Not yet. He had inquired, and pried, and it turned out that he was on the wrong island. Some maps showed that he was across the sea from home, far from the isle where he had passed his childhood. How long ago it seemed. Now, he was on some little dip of a place, just off the main continent.

He would have to buy fare on a boat, and travel. Travel soon. He had to return; had to go home. 

**_flash_****_._**

****

"No! Fools! Idiots! You were supposed to hold him–"

"... Sir?"

"Go! Chase after him! _He cannot escape_!"

Still blinded by his exit from the pitch-dark world, still helpless as a newborn babe, he was already stumbling forward, spurring feet into a run.  _Where am I? _he thought desperately, emerald eyes flickering, sight hazy and blurred. Hollow Bastion? Could it be? After all these years, was it Hollow Bastion?

He ran onwards, the Unknown plunging obediently after him. His coat fluttered out behind, and before he knew what he was doing, he had vaulted himself over the side of a railing, plummeting back into the swirling vortex they had been taken through. It had taken them across worlds, and brought them escape from the Heartless city. He didn't know where it led now, minutes afterwards, but anywhere was fine. Anywhere but here. _Anywhere my mind is free from that monster._

As he fell through the portal, his thoughts were freed, whirling and cascading into nothing. He reached out to grasp for nothing and to reach and to reach and finally, finally catch hold of a place. A memory. Remembering a place, a place a memory one that he had to return to, desperately had to return to–

He was torn abruptly back to consciousness, sand in his eyes, water in his hair, salt in his throat.

**_flash_****_._**

****

He had no belongings, no munny, no nothing. The innkeeper had had serious doubts about giving him a room. The young man on his doorstep was healthy and lean with muscle, but reeling and on the verge of passing-out. He wore a coat of fine leather, but it was in shreds. Old scars criss-crossed his body, open cuts still leering on his face. _And no munny_.

He had finally been given this scrap of a room by agreeing to work for the man. He would help out around the inn, doing any sort of chore that came to mind. 'Heavy lifting might be a possibility. Are you up for it?'  He had wanted to laugh out loud, right then. Endless battle had strung his nerves and muscles so tight he was afraid they would snap if he _didn't _do some sort of exercise.

... Munny. Fighting for his life had a certain logic to it, but now it had somehow come down to coinage? He would need to amass some munny if he wanted to buy passage to his own little corner of the Destiny Islands.

**_flash_****_._**

****

Occasionally, he was granted respite from the battle. A while to sit and rest, to gather his energy while the Unknowns danced below, blades flashing. Ansem was always somewhere above; sitting watching them, pulling and weaving some pattern for them to fulfil. Hatred surged within him at the thought of it, but with it came some malicious anticipation. Someday, that monster would finally, finally meet its end.

In the first month, it had all seemed hopeless. He had been prepared to throw down the blade, no matter the king's screaming and raging, no matter the pain inflicted on his mind as a result of it, the splitting agony Ansem caused. At times, despite all that, he was prepared to kill himself.

But then the Unknowns showed up. And then there was hope. They would escape. One day they would escape, and that would be his chance. Then he would sever the ties that bound them, and he would be loose and free and he could go home.

And the monster would meet his end.

**_flash_****_._**

It took a few weeks of work at the inn. At first, the townspeople had watched him warily, almost in fear. But as they got used to him being there, they tried to be friendly, tried to pry him open and figure him out. He wanted none of it. He refused their conversation, their curiosity. He knew they would talk and gossip about him, but it didn't matter.

After he had worked up enough money for the boat fare, he left the island, finally leaving behind their looks and whispers and pity. And he was on his way. On his way home. He would see Sora, and Kairi. It wouldn't be back to normal; but of course not, who expected it to be? But he would see them again, and....                                                                                     

.... _and__ then what?_****

**_flash_****_._**

****

Then one day, it had gotten desperate. That day, all the Unknowns were gone – plotting somewhere, in whatever world they came from. And Ansem was quiet for once, having realized the gravity of the situation, quivering with an intense uneasiness.

Riku's blood spilled on the streets, mixing with the rain. He slipped and fell, losing his foothold in the wetness. He crashed to the ground but was immediately up again, fingers sliding along the edge of the keyblade's hilt. He drew his hand around it, feeling the muscles tighten throughout his body. Neck straight, jaw tense, teeth grinding as he clashed with the Heartless, again and again, struggling to drive them back. Bare metal dug into shapeless bodies, cutting through shadow, ripping it apart. But for every Heartless he killed, another lashed in from behind, sending him screaming to the ground, blood splattering across his vision.

The second he fell, he was always up again, kicking and writhing to regain his balance and keep the fight going. Endless. It was endless, endless, absolutely endless..... and then came the moment he fell and, shaking with the pain, **he could not get back up.**

... That was the day the King appeared.

The King appeared, and he drove them back.

**_flash_****_._**


	2. memories

****

F R A G M E N T S. chapter two: memories

It had been the biggest surprise of his life.

At first sight, it was simply a hooded, cloaked figure that barely reached his waist. A miniature version of the other Unknowns; nothing too impressive or awe-worthy. But the silent, sombre figure proved to be a fighter. It moved with an unnatural speed, crashing through the Heartless like a breaking wave, the simple, inverted keyblade scattering shadow with ease.

Within a minute, it had done what had seemed impossible – to halt the flow of Heartless and send them back. After they had withdrawn, the King stood over the fallen warrior, dark eyes coolly taking in the wounds and exhaustion.

Shock and confusion emanated from Ansem, along with vestiges of doubt and suspicion. The emotions intruded on Riku's own, trickling and seeping through his mind, clouding his thoughts. With a burst of effort, he furiously pushed them away, forcing the other man out – for another moment at least. And in that moment, he whispered a word of thanks to the stranger, and struggled to stand, boots slipping in the rainwater.

A large, gloved hand reached out and tugged him up to his feet with a smile.

Since that day, the King appeared frequently, his small mouse-like shape proving more than a match against the Heartless legions. However, he only appeared when the fight grew truly desperate, materializing when and where he was needed most. With a touch of amusement, he found himself regarding the mouse as a small, fierce guardian angel.

The Unknowns themselves never mistrusted his sudden arrival, accepting his presence without question. Perhaps they had already known of his existence there, in the shadow world. Riku did not know.

And either way, he was grateful.

**__**

flash.

On the day of his departure from the nameless island, Riku's mind was still working in a sort of feverish overdrive, churning through old memories. It worked its way through the scrambled, disjointed tale of his escape, and leaped back through the years, dragging up lazy summer days he thought had been all but forgotten.

**__**

flash.

None of the children had ever climbed the paopu tree before. They tried, of course, but constant failures and bruises taught them to avoid the thing, despite whatever ambitions they had of capturing its legendary fruit. The first time Riku tried, he fell and crashed hard to the ground below, the sharp, metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

He was up there again a second later, and managed to climb further. But along with that slight advancement came a harder fall, hands slipping on the smooth bark. When he landed, his arm made a sickening crack. He limped home with bruises and a fracture, to the great upset of his mother.

A week later, he dared to climb the tree again, arm still swathed in bandages, face tight with determination.

.... And against all odds, the child succeeded.

**__**

flash.

Sweat rolled off his body, salty drops falling and scattering on the sand. The fourteen-year-old boy practiced alone on the shore, arms straining as he threw solid coconut shells into the air – a heartbeat after each throw, a wooden crack rang out across the beach. The practice sword wove smoothly through the air, the boy's bare arms working hard with each stroke.

His sparring partner had gone home hours ago, abandoning the practice session. Chocolate hair dripping with sweat and sea-water, Sora had been reluctant to leave the sands... but a plaintive stomach and aching limbs had forced him on his way.

The only one left was a red-haired girl seated on the dock, kicking her heels restlessly. She watched him practicing with no one to practice with, watched him dance across the sands. A distant, wistful look clouded her eyes, and she lightly gnawed on her lip.

Hours after sunrise, she finally slid silently off the dock, sandals burying themselves in the sand. Sensing the shifting behind him, Riku lowered the sword and turned to face her, with a wry grin playing about his lips. It was greeted with an uncertain smile.

"Do you want me to walk you home?"

A pause. She bit her lip again, and nodded slowly. Her gaze still seemed withdrawn, and he noted it with a grain of worry. When she saw him looking at her, she tried to smile again, but the effort dropped short. In the end, she simply fell in by his side with a sigh.

As the two of them walked home in the settling dusk, Sora lay awake, staring at a white-washed ceiling through eyes blurry with tears.

**__**

flash.

As his mind tumbled back to the present, Riku was surprised to find his hands clutching the pillow by his cheek, fingers twisting and digging into the cotton. As he willed his muscles to relax, he realized his throat was strained as well, clenched tight with emotion. Even as he sluggishly started to wonder why, his thoughts settled back into place.

Had it really been so long since Kairi had smiled at him? Really _smiled_, not just a fleeting one that was gone before it was ever there, with quivering lips and eyes dark and sad. Had it been so long since he had heard Sora laugh? So long since the two of them could simply be friends, instead of friends and rivals, or friends and competitors... or enemies.

Furious, the silver-haired man swung his legs off the cot and stood up shakily. He was in a tiny cabin off the side of the ship, the only window closed and locked tight to prevent any light from falling through. The ship heaved beneath him, carrying him home but rocking him off-balance at the same time.

Had he always been so blind, in those days? It seemed so obvious now, when he saw it again. How could he have missed all the hints, all the subtle signs of his world falling apart? Kairi's sorrow and Sora's jealousy and Riku, a fool. A half-assed fool, blind and deaf.

**__**

flash.

"Such a pretty boy. So strong. So beautiful."

Claw-like fingers brushed at the nape of his neck, long black nails dragging white lines across his skin. At the first whisper of her touch, his spine arched away from her hands. His green eyes narrowed, and his body quivered in rage before he finally knocked the witch away. She hissed softly in disappointment.

"Don't touch me," he snarled back. His skin still tingled, and he felt like taking a bath to wash away the filth of her touch. She always tried to step close, to draw him in with a thin, sibilant voice and hands creeping by his neck. He suspected these attempts were wreathed with black magic, too, but they always failed. She would batter away at his mind, saying wouldn't it be so nice to submit? So nice to give in, and give up mind and choice and free will? Wouldn't it be nice to be owned, to be owned so utterly and entirely by Maleficent, the great sorceress, so mighty, so powerful, so tempting?

He still worked for the woman, running errands: kidnapping and killing and commanding those blank Heartless. But he was still in possession of his own mind. Riku was his own, and would always be. He felt a thrill of pride every time he effortlessly batted her away. He worked for her, but he would always demand recognition, demand that she treat him as an equal. He would do this work, and she would give him the resources to find Kairi, the resources to save her.

"Has the ship arrived yet?" Riku demanded, voice harsh. Maleficent smirked back, entwined in a steadily pulsing green light. After her initial shock at her failure, she would always pretend it had never happened, pretend she had never tried to coerce and he had never beaten her.

"You work so hard for your happily ever after, boy. How does it feel, now that it is so close?"

He ignored her.

**__**

flash.

He had been so arrogant. So damned pretentious. Riku rested his head against the wall, breathing deeply and trying to weather out the storm of memory. As the next one came rushing up, he recognized it – and his eyes widened, breath catching in dread.

No. Not this. Please not this no please **no**

__

flash.

Everything had come crashing down. The precarious balance between his own goals and Maleficent's, all his careful plans and all he had sacrificed. It had been for nothing. He was beaten, and the keyblade was gone, and he was alone and Sora had changed. His old friend – no, enemy – had suddenly become something unrecognizable, something great and threatening and Riku had _lost _and everything was lost. Maybe it was time to give up. Maybe it was time to admit defeat. He was a boy, a simple little island boy playing at big games and big destinies...

After his defeat, he had fallen to his knees in Hollow Bastion's great foyer. That self-depreciating voice rambled on, battering down every single scrap of esteem, every last inch of pride. An endless litany of hatred and shame fell upon his ears, spoken by his own voice.

But then another voice intruded, breaking through the flux of thoughts. The voice rumbled deep, reverberating throughout the hall in full, rich tones. Something tickled in the back of Riku's mind; something familiar.

"Know this."

He had been alone, but all of a sudden, there was someone else in the foyer. And as the hooded figure appeared before him, it clicked into place and the boy remembered. A rainy day eons ago, creeping down the tunnel to confront monsters, dirt on his knees, fingernails digging into the ground, damp roots brushing his cheek... A falling star, a girl washed up on shore... A tall, hooded, unknown figure, with a deep voice that rang through his heart... A voice that promised and alluded to vast treasures and riches and worlds, _worlds _beyond imagining...

His name was Ansem.

"The heart that is strong and true shall win the Keyblade."

Riku drew in sharp intake of breath, suddenly indignant. He could berate himself as long as he liked. But this figure, this _stranger, _had no business commenting, no business drawing attention to what had gone so horrible wrong. "What? You're saying my heart's weaker than his?" the boy spluttered, irate.

"For that instant, it was."

A pause, and he struggled to his feet, prepared to rage, to shout. But the man continued, nonplussed. "However, you can become stronger. You showed no fear in stepping through the door to darkness. It held no terror for you."

Another heartbeat, and Riku's spirits began to lift slightly. It was true. He had stood in the face of that storm, of that destructive vortex. He had feared nothing then. But now he was broken and ruined, and...

"Plunge deeper into the darkness, and your heart will grow even stronger."

Indecision wracked his mind. But in the whirlpool of his emotions, three things clarified. By joining with Maleficent and her dark forces, he had been given powers, the strength to control the ravenous Heartless. The one with strength of heart gained the Keyblade.

His heart could grow stronger.

"What should I do?" He was an eager boy again, grasping at threads he couldn't see, stumbling onwards to something he didn't understand.

"It's really quite simple," the stranger said smoothly in return. "Open yourself to the darkness. That is all."

Riku took a faltering step towards the hooded man.

"Let your heart, your being, become darkness itself."

**__**

flash.

Tears shimmered at the edge of Riku's vision. He had slumped to the floor, fingers clutching at his head, a trembling mess propped against the wall, whimpering and sobbing. The memory had faded, but not in time for him to escape the pain. The pain rode through him in waves, and he relived it as vividly as if Ansem were stealing his body once again. He could remember the feeling of slowly becoming unaware of his body, unaware of his own actions. And the voice. The voice hounded him for years after, years and years and...

That pride. That foolish pride in pushing Maleficent away, thinking how strong he was, congratulating himself for resisting. And then _he _came, and Riku relinquished himself without pause, never looking back. And the puppet and puppeteer were born.

He could remember glimpses of battle. Fighting Sora, and that one terrifying moment when he found himself turning against Kairi. Wresting back control of his body, and the punishment – the pain and agony – that followed. Ansem's scorn, and the simplicity in which he ripped Riku's soul away, casting it astray, setting it out to flounder madly. The days of darkness afterwards, walking endless chalk-white paths, trying to find a way back and trying to find his friends but not knowing how much time had passed, not knowing if they were alive. Not knowing what Ansem was doing.

Sometimes he still imagined he heard the voice, nudging at the edge of his consciousness. But that was impossible. He was worlds away from the heartless king. He was safe. He was safe. He was safe.


	3. kairi's first choice

****

F R A G M E N T S. chapter three: kairi's first choice

You were my first choice, you know. You were bigger, taller, stronger... and you were full of this fierce devotion, this over-protection, but you still fumbled your words around me, and that was cute.

But then you grew confident. The playful rivalry between you two... it had always been harmless. You competed like equals. But then you grew confident, and you started winning, until it grew to the point that you beat him _every single time_. The trio could take you on, and they couldn't win. That summer was the first time I saw Sora cry.

You boys... you were always so silly, so misguided. You thought strength was everything, that it was all that mattered. Sora lost, and he cried, because he thought it was the end of the world. You won, and you... lost your charm. You still joked around and it was still fun, of course, but... There were too many boasts, too much gloating. Sora would sit in the dust and, after fighting you, he would fight back tears.

And your blush went away. Your awkward words, the hesitant smile I loved so much. They went away. It used to be a battle, dragging affectionate words out of you, and it was always so rewarding in the end. But now the words tumbled from your mouth, and they were flippant, arrogant. They weren't always affectionate.

I think you realized something was wrong. You spent more time alone, ruminating in your paopu tree, trying to see what the problem was. But even as you did that, you grew distant from the rest of us. You started dreaming big dreams, and you faded away. Riku was no longer our best friend -- he was something else, something larger and something intimidating.

I wish it could have gone differently... I'm sorry, Riku. I'm sorry for everything you went through, and I'm sorry I didn't stop it in the beginning, didn't walk up to your tree and talk to you and try, maybe, to fix it somehow. Before the competition grew too strong, before you went out of control.

And even now, as it is now, with everything changed and nothing quite the same... All I can say, is that I miss those times. I remember one warm summer night, sitting with the two of you, and for once, you weren't fighting. You weren't worrying about who was winning my heart.

It was just you and me and him, alone, with the stars above and the horizon ahead.

I miss that day.


	4. homecoming

**F R A G M E N T S.** chapter four: homecoming

The hours rolled around and finally came to a stop on a late Tuesday afternoon, with a shallow-bottomed ferry bumping up against a pier on the Destiny Islands. It had been raining haphazardly earlier on that morning, but the sun had long since come out and boiled away the puddles. The sand and palms glistened now, baking in the heat.

A gangway slid into place between the boat and the creaking dock, and a small cluster of passengers traipsed onshore. One of them stood out - a green-eyed young man, wearing scraps of ragged black leather. These were the islands of his childhood, but not the ones where he had played at swords and climbing. This was the main island, where the town was located, with the school and shops and little houses. This was home.

With his first step onto the island, Riku felt a shifting in his mind.What was once chaotic and whirling wildly out of control, suddenly felt.... secure. Secure, and anchored. Something was now holding the storm of memory safely at bay.

A slight smile quirked his lips, and he understood. The place was utterly unchanged. Stepping onto the sands had felt like stepping back in time - he had leapt back through the ages with a single stride. Here, on this painfully familiar island, his mind settled, and found solace. As far as he was concerned, the harrowing events of the past five years might never have happened.

... But then again, he knew better.

As he made his way down the road to his old neighbourhood, his pace unconsciously quickened. Tight threads of anxiety clenched his heart, but he forced himself back into implacable calm. He had come so far. The tattered remains of the coat reminded him of that, if anything. No need to ruin it now.

Children stopped and stared as he walked by, and he couldn't help a laugh - the first in years. The locals wandered about in shorts and breezy tops. And here was a madman in black raincoat leather... stifling warm in this heat, even though he had removed the sleeves. The outfit was something foreign to the islands, something new and worthy of comment. He watched their astonishment, and winced inwardly. The old Riku had been weak-minded and foolish, but the child had had a point. The islands weren't everything. There was more than this, more to be seen and experienced.

Riku kept walking, rounding a corner, and his heartbeat jumped frantically as he saw the rooftops looming behind the palms. So familiar he ached. So familiar that self-restraint was thrown to the winds, and he found himself running. Sora's house was closer; he would go there first.

The young man sprinted up the dirt road, leaping into a scruffy garden - odd, Sora's mother always took such meticulous care of her garden - and practically flew onto the front porch. He eagerly pressed the doorbell, fingers fumbling in their haste. The bell rang out raggedly from somewhere within, and he waited, pulse racing.

As time dragged on, he impatiently pounded on the screen door, shoving his face against it and straining to look through the gloom.

There was only silence.

He pounded the door again, fist knocking it back in its frame. He waited, and a tendril of fear began to snake its way into him. He finally turned his head, neck rigid, to take in the details he hadn't noticed before.

The garden wasn't just scruffy. It was fully overgrown, weeds flowing out onto the driveway. The paint on the porch was chipping, the planks split and cracked from continuous exposure to rain and sun. The little bench in the corner had fallen over, and no one had pushed it back upright. Riku took deep breaths to calm himself.

Hands clenched, nails digging into his own skin, he leaned over to the door again, peering inside. The kitchen was murky and dim, fridge and counters nothing more than shadows. But sunlight spilled in from a window in the corner, and he could see motes of dust outlined in the light, the dense layer of it on the floor. The dining table was missing.

As knowledge sank in, his throat seized and he bit back a cry. Riku stumbled back, and dropped down on the decaying porch. He sat there, lost and bereft of purpose - a puppet cut from its strings. His mind windmilled, leaving him staring at the abandoned house. The entire thing was dilapidated, nearly falling on its foundations.

He wanted to scream. But aside from the raw pain in his throat, he was silent. It felt like his entire life had been building up to this moment, but it had suddenly been robbed from him. After all this anticipation, his world was rocked to the core. _Where's Sora?_

After five minutes of distressing anguish, Riku finally climbed back to his feet. He hurdled himself over the broken banister, landing lithely in the grass, and pushed himself onwards. Kairi's house was a little way down the road. He focused on the fact that it was there, focused on the simple act of walking there. Anything else was a struggle in his numb mind.

He strode into Kairi's driveway, and a distant part of him felt a thrill of hope, noticing the little bungalow was the same as ever. The garden was a cascade of colours, arranged in neat clusters, and lights glowed in the windows as the afternoon darkened.

Riku pressed the doorbell, and the bell rang the same cheerful little note he remembered.

But time passed, and no one came to the door. He rang it again and again, but the same: nothing. He roamed around the garden, gazing in through the windows, and saw signs of life. Magazines were scattered on the couch in the livingroom. The calendar was opened to the correct month, and little messages were scribbled in the blocks, but they were too far away for him to read. He worried that someone else might have moved in, but a paopu plushie balanced by the telephone proved otherwise.

If Kairi still lived here, where was she?

He stood in the driveway, mulling it over. Finally, Riku paced to the back of the bungalow, and shoved his way into the bushes, eventually stumbling over a worn path through the foliage. After a few moments hurrying along the shortcut, he emerged back at the beach with a strained smile. He hopped into the sturdy little rowboat tied up there, and pushed off for the smaller island.

Ten minutes later, he pulled up at the miniature dock, and headed down the path along the beach. His heart ached again, seeing the treehouse, the wrecked ship, and the waterfall. The paopu tree earned a second glance, and he almost felt like climbing it again, just to prove he could... but there wasn't any time for nostalgia. He had a certain place in mind.

Other rowboats were moored at the dock, and a handful of children were playing in the distance. They were new faces; he didn't recognize any of them, and felt a twinge of jealousy that _they_ were playing on _his _island. But then again, the old gang would have grown up by now. They weren't children anymore. How old would Selphie be today...?

Sudden confusion gripped him as he thought it over. How old was _he_? Riku struggled, making guesses and approximates and pooling the endless months together. He had a general idea of how long he had been locked away, but there were other patches of time that seemed impossible to measure. He should have checked the year when he saw Kairi's calendar.

Resigned, he finally concluded that he must be eighteen. Not like it mattered anymore, anyway.

He quickened his pace again, walking past the waterfall. He ducked past the little door of leaves, pulling it back and diving into the darkness of the tunnel. The ceiling was a lot shorter than he remembered, and Riku hunched over awkwardly, half-crawling.

A minute of scuffling through the dirt, and eventually the tunnel opened up into a little earthen cave, filled with little boulders. His gaze instantly scanned the area, but once again was met with only dismay. The cavern was empty. Kairi was not there.

He looked around dully, and realized that all of the chalk drawings had been erased. And the door in the back...

Anger flared through him. In his few moments of spare time, in lulls between battle, he had stolen opportunities to speak to the King. They had talked about their situation, about the forces that had brought them there, about the broken Ansem. About the worlds. The King had promised that, with the closing and locking of the door, the Heartless flow would be stopped. And along with that, all the worlds the monsters had consumed would return, and the connections between them would be broken. Travel would no longer be possible.

The King promised. He promised the door would be gone.

But now it had come back. It stood there, plain as day, challenging him and defying absolutely everything he had ever done. All their work had unraveled with the Unknowns breaking them free. The worlds were connected again, and travel was possible. After all he had done to protect the islands, to make sure they wouldn't get washed away in the wake of the war with the Heartless... the door was back, and it enraged him.

Riku flew at the door, battering at it, struggling to find a way through, to open it, to force it open and then maybe, maybe, he'd have some answers. If only it would open. If it would open, Sora and Kairi would be there, and they would be waiting, and...

_If he returned to the Islands, then they would be there._ Had he really believed it would be so simple?

He fell to the floor, head in his hands, despair welling over. He screamed.


	5. selphie

**F R A G M E N T S.** chapter five: selphie

The brunette hurried, half-falling into the water as she jumped out of her rowboat, tying it up against the dock with nimble fingers. The sky was slowly darkening, afternoon fading away into twilight, and the children on the island were one-by-one scurrying home. Their mothers would want them back in time for dinner. They shot her odd looks as she passed by - older kids weren't supposed to come to the island - but the expressions weren't as sulky as they should have been.

So it was true. Someone else _had _come this way. Selphie had been buying her groceries on the main island when a murmur had risen up in the other customers, and she turned just in time to see a black-clad figure rush by. There was only one person with silver hair who would ever come to the Destiny Islands, but the prospect of him returning was so... so _ludicrous_, that she didn't believe her eyes at first.

But still.... the Tilmitt girl had fumbled then, hurriedly paying for her food. The cashier had seemed set on starting up some gossip that day, and she only broke free a few moments later. The sixteen-year-old ran down the street, dropping the groceries outside her parents' apartment - not like anyone would steal them - and down into the neighbourhood, only to see nothing. She loped past Sora's old house, and on instinct headed for Kairi's. She was rewarded then, green eyes catching a man going through the bungalow's backyard.

He was much taller than her, however, and long legs carried him quickly down to the beach. By the time she reached the sands, he was disappearing to the island with Kairi's rowboat.

Selphie had thrown a little fit, dancing around and cursing, before rushing further downshore to find her own boat. By the time she had gotten it dragged out, emptied out the water (with a bit more yelling besides), and lectured herself for not putting the tarpaulin on last night.... By then, she estimated the man was already on the island.

So she hurried.

As she walked along the sands, she looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the stranger again. But the effort seemed more and more futile as she tried. She glanced up at the paopu tree hopefully, only to find it empty. Frustrated, Selphie stopped by the waterfall, slowly swiveling in a circle, wondering where he could have gone.

Her eye landed on the entrance to the secret place. It could have been her imagination, but she fancied the leaves were a bit askew. And... well... _no one _but the old gang knew about that place. Admittedly, it belonged to Sora, Kairi, and Riku. But it's not like the others hadn't noticed that it existed. They just chose not to intrude, out of politeness.

And none of the kids nowadays had found it. They thought they were so daring and adventurous, but they didn't know _half _of the secrets of the island. So that left only...

She pushed through the blanket of leaves, and sped her way down the tunnel on her hands and knees. As she rounded the bend and came out into the cavern, she found him.

It _was _Riku. It had to be. But he was a lot bigger than she remembered - though Selphie had always been small for her age - and wearing that odd black outfit. And, at the moment, he was crumpled in a little pile on the floor. She had never seen him cry before.

"Um.... Riku?" she said hesitantly, fidgeting with the bracelets around her left wrist. Now that she had found him, she was at a loss of what to do.

He choked, slowly unfolding and unwrapping his arms from his knees. He turned to look at her, catlike eyes red-rimmed. It _was _him.

"... Selphie?"

Riku's voice was rough, as if unused to speaking. She looked him over again, puzzling over his scars, over the nasty cut across his face. Where had he _been _for so long?

But in the meantime, she smiled. "Yup, s' me. What's up?"

Her old friend shook his head, long hair falling into his eyes. The hair was much longer than she remembered, thick and mane-like now. He had a blindfold tied around his neck, though he seemed to have forgotten about it.

"'What's up'?" he repeated incredulously. "Everything's gone wrong, but all of a sudden, here you are. And you say 'what's up'." His voice faltered occasionally, croaking and rasping over certain words. She felt utterly uncomfortable. She had never really been at her best around Riku. He made her uneasy, even more so when he was like this.

The girl crouched down beside him. "Sorry," she said carefully. "I'm just, uh, kind of... I dunno what to say. Where have you been?"

Riku scrubbed at his eyes with the back of one hand, and she saw anger flash behind his eyes. Humiliated because she caught him crying, or just mad at her in general? No way to tell. Kairi was the one that understood him, not Selphie.

"Where's Sora?" he asked bluntly, ignoring her question. "Where's Kairi?" he demanded again. Selphie did a mental _humph_ at his rudeness, and wondered whether she should answer or not. She looked again at the livid scars across his cheek, and the intensity of his stare, and decided she probably had to answer the question.

"I haven't seen Sora in four years. He never came back, the same as you."

Riku spat out a curse, eyes crushing shut. His hands dug into the earth, and he trembled, before finally recovering. His entire body seemed tense, strung out and rippling with every single emotion that crossed his mind. For the third time, she wondered what had happened to him to cause this.

"His mom packed up three years ago, and moved back to the capital," she continued.

He slowly let out a quivering breath. "And Kairi?"

"Um, like usual. But tonight she went over to the mainland. There's a carnival going over in the town, and she wanted to join the party."

Riku sighed again, but this time he visibly relaxed. A weight seemed to have slid off his shoulders. "So she's safe. But what happened to Sora? Why isn't he here?"

The brunette shrugged, bouncing uneasily on her heels. "I don't know, Riku. She doesn't tell me much about what happened at the end of your great big adventure. But _you _didn't come back either, so what's so odd about Sora?"

He leaned back, resting his weight on his hands, and looked up at the hole in the ceiling. Dusk was fully settling in now, the clouds turning a dark blue-purple as the sunset neared.

"He promised he would take care of her."


	6. masquerade

**F R A G M E N T S.** chapter six: masquerade

He had taken a few moments to compose himself again, getting adjusted to the new situation arrayed before him. For some reason or other, Sora had not returned. Kairi had been alone for four years. Fine. But at least she was nearby, and safe. He would see her soon. Things were brightening up.

After pulling himself together, Riku matter-of-factly asked the girl for the details of the carnival. Even before she finished speaking, a plan had grown half-formed in his mind. He had leapt up and went running for the rowboat, leaving her to scuttle after. He had just enough time to catch the late ferry to the mainland, and would have plenty of time before the carnival officially started.

Half an hour later, he was firmly planted on the deck of the ferry, leaving Selphie puzzled and alone on the Destiny Island pier. His morale was slowly climbing up again, and he even had the nerve to give her a cheeky wave goodbye as the boat pulled away from the dock. Some remnant of the old Riku seemed to be returning.

It took a while, but he could eventually see the great mass of the mainland approaching. It was a monster of a continent, and most of the islanders were intimidated by the place. The towns were too big and noisy, and the people too coarse and unfriendly. The little port-town clinging to the coast, however, was a bit more tolerable. It was within view from the Destiny Islands on a clear day, and islanders were comfortable with popping over there once a month or so.

The moment he arrived, Riku set a course down the nearest street. Carnival masks were on display everywhere, hanging from awnings and crammed in store windows. He fumbled in one pocket of his coat, feeling the left-over money from his boat fares. He couldn't afford an intricate costume - and didn't want one, either - but a mask would do well.

Riku roamed the street, peering into the stores he passed and waiting for something to catch his eye. The aimless search wore on, and he eventually considered just picking up one of the generic jester masks. As the thought crossed his mind, he ducked into the next store found, deciding to buy the first reasonably-priced thing he saw...

And there was the perfect mask. It was simply that: _perfect_. His chest heaved and he laughed out loud, instantly - struck by his sheer, dumb luck. The cashier shot him a sideways glance, but Riku stepped forward and carefully lifted the mask off its cradle. It was a pale cream-white, slashed with spiky threads of black across the face, forming a diagonal cross. Red framed the black, and curled in under the eyes. The forehead reached high and wide, bending into two flawless curves, forming the top half of a heart.

It was perfect. It was perfectly ironic. He had found a mask inspired by the Heartless symbol.

"How much for this?" Riku asked flatly, lifting the mask slightly. As he paid for it with the rest of his munny, he wondered if the craftsman truly knew what he had depicted.

Riku stepped out onto the cobbled street, and was surprised to find that night had truly fallen. Storm clouds were gathering, and the heavy scent of impending rain was lingering in the air. Pulling his hood up behind the mask, he quickly set off for heart of the festivities, following the general flow of direction. Everyone was gravitating towards the town square.

As he turned the corner, the flow suddenly coalesced into a thick mass of people. An entire crowd of brightly-coloured outfits swayed to the music, jostling each other, every person pressed tight in the cramped town square. Darkness had fallen, wrapping itself around the dancers.

The carnival began with sunset, with eating and drinking and dancing and yet more dancing. Masks hid the faces of most of the revellers, revealing only a glimpse of bright eyes, or the curve of a bare jaw.

As time went on, he found himself slipping into the music, losing himself in the rhythm as the others had. Girls would constantly whirl up out of the chaos, grab his hands and pull him into a dance - he would always scan their faces, searching for a glimpse of recognition, but they were always strangers. For a fleeting moment, he knew what it was like to dance amongst unknowns, and to leave all other worries behind. As long as you kept dancing, the brewing storm was not a concern, and would never be a concern.

But then the novelty wore off.

The endless crush of bodies against him became suffocating, reminding him far too much of years in darkness, fighting off bodies that he could barely see, that seemed to exist only to smother him. But the difference between then and now was that _now_, he could not slaughter his way through.

Floundering in the sea of people, Riku struggled past wave after wave of faces. He needed to leave the packed streets. He needed fresh air, and someplace high, a vantage point - they always made him feel at ease. _Elevation_, that was it.

Eventually, he emerged at the edge of the crowd, where there were less people, and the going was a lot simpler. Easing his way past the occasional straggler, he instantly made for where the sea was visible in a break between buildings. As he passed the houses, the outskirts of the town, his footsteps carried him to the small outcrop he had in mind. It was a place that overlooked the ocean, swelling up into a small hill at the very edge, granting you the most perfect view imaginable.

Even as Riku cleared the apex of the hill, hoping he would be alone, he found himself side-by-side with another masked figure. He waited for it to speak, to complain at his intrusion, but it frankly didn't seem to care. Content with this silence, he settled himself with watching the brewing horizon, a comfortable distance away from the other.

The clouds had been gathering all day, and before either had spoken, the sky broke. Heaven let loose a torrent of water, bucketing vicious rain down upon the festivities. Dismayed cries rose from the crowd in the distance, and the revellers were sent scattering, seeking shelter.

The figure beside him, however, laughed, and spread its arms wide. "I love rain," an exultant, feminine voice declared. "It makes the islands seem so... alive. The trees, the rivers, you can almost hear them celebrating. Listen..."

One pale hand and one pale finger was raised, motioning for yet more silence. Riku paused to listen to the drumming on the ground and on the slated roofs of the town, to feel the water trickling down his neck. He smiled wryly.

"It's funny how memories resurface sometimes," the figure remarked softly, now looking to her feet and the pools growing around them. "I love stormy weather. And I had a friend once... he liked warm summer days, when everything was still and quiet. When everything was so peaceful, all you wanted to do was just crawl under a tree and _sleep_."

His eyes widened slightly at that, and he looked at his companion more closely, straining to see through the pelting rain.

"I can't believe I still remember this," she continued with a laugh. "There was this other one, and he liked clear, windless skies. Bright dawns and beautiful dusks and dizzying heights... when you could look out over the sea, and see straight across the horizon. Sometimes it felt like you could see right to the end of the world." A heartbeat, as she shot a quick glance at him, hidden beneath his hood. But then she averted her face, and apologies spilled from her lips, for wasting his time.

"... I still do," he interrupted, his voice carefully neutral.

"What?"

"Clear, windless skies. I still-"

With unexpected speed, the girl had swivelled around and stepped close to him. He found large, aquamarine eyes staring into his own - just as he had suspected. Her hands shot to his face, and she tore off the Heartless mask, fingers dragging slowly against his cheek. Recognition finally lit in those beautiful, ocean-blue eyes, and were those tears streaking her face, or rain? She said something, but th estorm blocked it out - regardless, she leapt into his arms with a sob, drowning herself against him.

Kairi.

Four years aged, but definitely her. He remembered red hair - the colour of deep autumn on the main island, of blood-red sunsets, of fresh roses. Drenched red hair against his cheek, a crying girl on his shoulder.

_Kairi_.


End file.
